


Hide and Seek Trilogy

by Hezikiah



Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: F/M, Friendship, Games, Gen, Hurt/Comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-11
Updated: 2013-10-05
Packaged: 2019-01-21 03:03:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 18,308
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12448335
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hezikiah/pseuds/Hezikiah
Summary: First Doctor Who fanfic I ever wrote and it wound up being a three-parter. This story is full of fun, cuddles, games, a slight touch of Dark!Doctor and danger, and some Winnie the Pooh. Enjoy!





	1. Hide and Seek

**Author's Note:**

  * For [sykira](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sykira/gifts).



“Ollie ollie oxen freeeee!” the Doctor's gleeful voice bounced down the corridor.

Donna's step quickened and she grimaced in annoyance. She was tempted to turn around and shout back that he was cheating, that there was no way on earth or Gallifrey that he'd counted to one hundred that fast, but that would have given away her position. She hadn't even managed to find a hiding place yet! “Bloody stupid game,” she grumbled as she considered the first doorway that she'd come to. She dashed inside without looking what room it was while her mind drifted back to how she'd wound up playing Hide and Seek with the Doctor in the first place.

 **Two Hours Earlier...**  
The TARDIS doors flew open and the Doctor came dashing inside followed by his red-headed companion. Purple slime dripped off of them as they slipped up the ramp and clutched the control console to catch their breaths. After a moment, they looked at each other, smiles on their faces.

“Donna, the next time an alien species tells us that we must complete their ceremonial bathing ritual before meeting their leader, you make sure that I clarify what the ritual entails before I consent,” the Doctor said.

“You think?” Donna huffed, then added “Slime, Doctor! They covered us in slime and it smells like...like...” she sniffed. “Vegemite!”

“There's worse things to smell like than Vegemite,” the Doctor replied with nonchalance. He started flipping switches and throwing levers, sending them into the vortex. “Now!” he proclaimed, slapping his hands together in anticipation. Drops of slime flew everywhere and Donna ducked.

“Oi, watch it, Spaceman!”

“Whoops, sorry,” the Doctor apologized. “So what do you say we both have nice showers and then meet up afterward in the kitchen for tea? It's way past our teatime. Is there any banana bread left, do you think?”

“No, you ate it all yesterday, you pig,” Donna replied. “And a shower is _exactly_ what I need.”

“Great! See you soon!” the Doctor shot her a grin and bounced down the corridor ahead of her. Donna followed, slipping and sliding from the purple stuff on her shoes. The Doctor disappeared down a side corridor that lead to his room and Donna stopped outside the door to hers.

At least, she thought it was her room. She opened the door and a wall of greenery met her eyes. The smell of hundreds of exotic blooms hit her nose and she sighed in irritation. She'd wound up in the garden again. The TARDIS seemed to be fond of hiding her room from her when she was especially smelly. It was a sick game that the ship liked to play with her and Donna suspected it was out of boredom. “Cut it out, you,” she grumbled at the ship and closed the door. The slime was starting to dry and make her feel stiff, but still sticky.

She headed back down the corridor and the next three rooms turned out to be a film studio complete with green screen, a sauna (Donna made a note of its location), and a room with a giant loom and spinning wheel. Donna shut the door of the last one, shaking her head. “That's enough,” she told the ship. “I'd really like a bath now, thanks!”

Donna stomped down the corridor and tried one more door. It was the laundry room. “Oh, ha ha ha!” she called out to the TARDIS. “Guess you expect me to just climb on into the washer, eh? Not bloody likely, you infernal ancient machine.”

She slammed the door and continued down the hall. She wandered for several minutes, growing more and more nervous as doorways failed to appear. Donna wondered if she'd really pissed off the TARDIS this time with her moaning and complaining. Just as she was about to start to panic, a doorway appeared and she pushed it open and almost shouted with relief.

It was the kitchen. The Doctor was washed and dressed in his brown pinstripe suit, carefully arranging Jammie Dodgers on a plate at the long rectangular wooden table in the center of the room. “Oh, there you...Donna?” he asked, raising an eyebrow in confusion when he saw her state. “Why haven't you showered?”

“Because the TARDIS won't let me!” she declared. “She keeps leading me to every room but my own!”

The Doctor could see that Donna was irritated and a little scared. He smiled before saying,“Aw, she's just having a bit of fun with you is all. She likes you.”

“Well I don't like her!” Donna replied with vehemence, causing the Doctor to take a step backwards. “Not when I'm covered in alien goo and all I want to do is bathe!”

“Ok, ok,” the Doctor said, attempting to placate her. He cast his gaze upwards and reached out a hand to touch the coral colored wall of the kitchen. “Playtime's over. Let Donna have her shower now, please?” he crooned in a low voice. It was Donna's turn to raise an eyebrow as she watched his languid fingers gently stroke the wall. She swallowed as a strange feeling settled in the pit of her stomach. His touch on the ship was the touch of a lover and she wondered if the TARDIS requited the Doctor's obvious love. Donna then wondered if the Doctor would ever even consider touching her the way he touched his ship and immediately squashed the thought, her face flushing with embarrassment. She and the Doctor were pals, best mates, that's all. Nothing more. It could never be anything more than that.

The Doctor nodded in satisfaction. “You shouldn't have any problems now...Donna are you ok?” he asked, seeing the blush on her face.

“What? Oh yes...yes, I'm fine,” she stammered and took a step back into the hall. “Yeah, thanks, Doctor. I'll..um...I'll see you soon.”

“Are you sure you're ok?” He took his hand off the wall and reached towards Donna. She stared briefly at his approaching hand, then let out an uncharacteristic squeak and dashed off down the hall.

The Doctor shrugged and went back to arranging Jammie Dodgers on the plate. After a moment, he said, “You know, you ought not to play games with Donna. I have to bear the brunt of her wrath every time and that's not really fair.”

He swore he briefly heard female laughter echoing in the back of his mind.

It was almost an hour later when Donna reappeared in the kitchen and lowered herself into a chair at the kitchen table. Her red hair hung in damp wispy curls around her face. She wore grey pajama pants and a t-shirt that read, “Well behaved women rarely make history.” The Doctor was sitting at the table drinking a cup of tea, reading Steven Hawking's _The Illustrated Brief History of Time_ and giggling every few moments. He looked over the top of his glasses as she sat down. “Better?” he asked.

“Much better, thanks.” Donna snagged the teapot and tugged the multicolored cozy off. The Doctor had told her once that a former companion had knit it for him in honor of a certain crazy scarf that his fourth incarnation had been rather fond of. She poured herself a cup of tea and dumped in lots of sugar and milk. “Oh, that's lovely,” she murmured after taking a sip.

The Doctor put down his book and leaned his elbow on the table, propping his chin up in his palm. He was beaming broadly at her and Donna eyed him with suspicion. She knew that grin. It meant that he was going to drag her off to some planet where they'd get chased or imprisoned, possibly worse. His brown eyes sparkled merrily as she regarded him. She loved having adventures with him, but right now she was too tired to go gallivanting off to another world, at least not without eight solid hours of sleep behind her.

“Doctor, what are you thinking?” she asked before shoving a Jammie Dodger into her mouth.

“Your troubles with the TARDIS made me think that we should play Hide and Seek.”

“Excuse me, what?” she mumbled around the cookie.

“Hide and Seek,” he repeated. “You should hide and I'll try to find you. Looking for a hiding place might help you learn her layout better.”

“I don't have any problems with her layout,” Donna replied. “I never get lost, only when I'm filthy and she thinks it's bloody hilarious to hide my bedroom from me.”

The Doctor leaned back, crossing his arms. The smirk was still on his face. “Oh, ok. I see. You know the ship well enough, then. I mean, playing Hide and Seek with a human wouldn't exactly be a challenge for me, would it? After all, this is my ship and I know it better than anyone. As clever as you are, I highly doubt that you could hide from me long.”

Donna narrowed her eyes. She knew the Doctor was goading her, but she didn't really care and took the bait. “Oh, really?” she asked, cocking her head to one side. “You have no idea that I was a Hide and Seek champion when I was kid, yeah? Gramps never once found me. I can hide better than anyone, you just wait and see.” She slurped her tea down and slammed both hands down on the table, making the dishes rattle and the Doctor jumped in surprise. “You're on, Spaceman.”

“Great!” He jumped up and grabbed her hand, pulling her out of her chair. “I'll count to one hundred and then come find you.” He hid his face in his arms against the wall and started counting. Donna blinked in surprise, then spun on her foot and raced out the door. And that's what led her to...

 **Now.**  
Donna looked around the room and blinked in surprise. She was in the Doctor's bedroom. It had to be. Her bare feet sank into a plush royal blue carpet that covered the floor. There was a doorway in the opposite wall and Donna assumed it was his bathroom. A long, narrow bureau that hugged the curves of the coral walls stood on one wall with a matching wardrobe next to it. The bureau was covered in tons of little gadgets and doodads that the Doctor always seemed to pick up on his travels. There was an enormous fireplace with an actual burning fire inside and Donna vaguely wondered where the smoke went. A gorgeous red velvet chaise lounge and matching armchair sat at opposing angles in front of the fireplace. A humongous king-sized Queen Anne canopy bed carved in an alien wood, something between cherry and mahogany, sat against the far wall. The headboard bore the circular language of Gallifrey that Donna could not read and the TARDIS would not translate. Heavy blue velvet curtains backed in satin hung from the canopy. A blue duvet with silver swirls covered the bed. It looked so plush and comfortable that Donna resisted the urge to take a flying leap onto the bed and bounce on it like a little kid.

The Doctor's bedroom. She absolutely shouldn't haven been there and she swallowed nervously. Donna turned to scurry out of the room when the Doctor's giddy voice sang down the hall, “Donna, where are yoooou? I'm coming find you!” He was very, very near and was enjoying this far too much, in Donna's opinion.

Remembering what he'd said about the game not being a challenge for him, Donna stepped back into the room and closed the door with determination. They'd only just begun playing and here he was already finding her. She raced across the room and threw herself to the ground, rolling under the high bed just as the door opened.

Donna watched cream colored Converse trainers step in the room and took a deep breath, praying that he wouldn't hear her heart thudding in her chest. “Donna?” she heard his voice call out and then he let out an amused chuckle. “I'm being ridiculous. This is the absolute _last_ place she'd hide.” She watched the pinstripe trousers and trainers disappear back to the hall and the door shut with a click. Donna let her breath out and smiled to herself. The last place he thought she'd hide, eh? Well, she was going to jolly well stay right here, then!

The carpet was very comfortable and Donna didn't mind staying there, hiding under his bed. She waited a few minutes, then slipped out to grab a red throw pillow and blanket that she'd spotted resting on the chaise lounge. She was exhausted after their day running from aliens and getting covered in goo. A nice kip sounded heavenly right now and she doubted the Doctor was going to find her anytime soon. She crawled back under the bed, plumped up the pillow, and curled up under the blanket. It smelled like him and she wondered how often he sat on that chaise lounge in front of the fire. The thought of him by himself made her sad for some reason and that was her last thought as she drifted off into a light slumber.

The Doctor was positive that he'd find Donna quickly and then they could both get some rest. He hadn't realized how tired he was after their long day, but then that's how it always was with him. He needed so little sleep that the urge to rest always hit him hard. He stifled a yawn as he checked under the bougainvillea bushes in the garden. It had been over an hour since the game had started and he still hadn't found her yet. For the first time, the Doctor's confidence began to slip. A small thread of worry worked its way into his mind. The ship was infinitely large and Donna could be anywhere. She was better at this than he thought.

He tried reassuring himself that Donna couldn't get into any real harm on his ship. That is...if she didn't go into the attic. There were some rather unpleasant—and dangerous—relics stored away in the attic. Or she accidentally stepped into the Eye of Harmony room. His pace quickened and he resisted the urge to run as he headed for the control room. What if that slime they'd been covered with was somehow toxic to humans? He kicked himself for not analyzing it first, making sure it was harmless. Donna could be passed out somewhere and he didn't know where to find her.

The Doctor grabbed the back of his neck in panic as he gave in and raced to the control room. He leapt onto the platform and looked around for bits of slime that they'd trailed in. Maybe there was still some left to analyze. The TARDIS had already cleaned it up, though, and he frowned. He grabbed the monitor and ran an internal sensor sweep of the ship, asking the old girl to find Donna for him. The monitor swirled for a moment and then a picture of the layout of the ship appeared, with a red dot indicating Donna's whereabouts.

The Doctor raised an eyebrow. What the devil was she doing there? He'd checked there! She must have gotten in there after he'd stuck his head in. The Doctor laughed out loud, shaking his head. The last place he thought she'd hide turned out to be exactly where Donna had gone. He strolled down the corridor to his room and entered.

“Donna?” he called. There weren't a lot of places in here for her to hide. He looked in the wardrobe, expecting to find her sitting inside. Nope. He tried the bathroom, looking inside the massive blue-tiled shower. No Donna. He stepped back into the bedroom wondering if the TARDIS' sensors were malfunctioning or if she was playing with him now. That's when his ears picked up the light snoring. The Doctor ambled over to his bed. He knelt down and looked under, where he spotted his red-headed companion fast asleep. The Doctor chuckled and reached out a hand to shake her. Donna grumbled a little and her eyes opened to look at him. “Found you,” he said.

Donna started to sit up, but then remembered where she was. “So you did,” she conceded. He moved out of the way so she could scoot out from under his bed. “Guess you won after all.”

“Nope, I didn't.” The Doctor stuck his hands in his pockets and shifted his weight back and forth. “Had to use the sensors to find you. I think that means you won, fair and square!”

“I did?” Donna blinked and then grinned. “Ha! I _told_ you I was a Hide and Seek champion!”

“Yeah,” the Doctor agreed.

“It wasn't that hard,” Donna went on. “This bed's so high, it's the perfect place to hide.” Her mouth quirked at the corners as she commented as she looked at the bed. “It is an awfully nice bed.”

The Doctor raised an eyebrow and he followed her gaze. “Blimey, do you really think so? I think it's an absolute monstrosity. Would you like to have a go on it?”

“What?” Donna cried, turning to glare at him.

The Doctor's hands came up in a defensive gesture and his eyes went wide. Where had _that_ come from? “That's not what I meant!” he squeaked. “I meant, would you like to sit on it? It's the best bed in the TARDIS, very comfortable.”

Donna watched him for a moment and he seemed just as alarmed as her. “Well,” she said after a long moment. “Sure. I guess. If it is the best.” She turned to regard the bed. It was very tall, higher than her waist, and she didn't see any step-stool to help her up. She let out an audible gasp as she suddenly felt the Doctor's hands on her waist, turning her around and lifting her before she could protest. He sat her on the bed, then let go and crossed his arms, grinning at her.

“Well?” he asked.

Donna bit her lip, then bounced up and down a little. It was very squishy. On impulse, she threw herself backwards and stared up at the canopy. More Gallifreyan was carved on the underside of the canopy and was painted over in silver, only visible if you were laying on the bed. "It's nice." The mattress was the most comfortable bed she'd ever laid on. It was firm and supportive, yet yielded softly to her body weight. She let out a low moan of happiness and the Doctor laughed at her reaction. Blushing, she sat up and looked at him. He was still grinning at her and seemed very pleased and that made her feel giddy and nervous. Trying to distract herself, she pointed to the canopy. “What's that writing say, Doctor?”

“Do you know that I've quite forgotten?” he replied. “Let's take a look.” To her surprise, he walked around the bed and hoisted himself up, laying down a few feet away to look up at the carving.

“What do you mean you've forgotten?” she asked. “Don't you look at it all the time?”

“No,” he replied, his eyes flickering over the circular characters of his native language. “I sleep on the chaise, when I sleep at all.” He shrugged. “This bed is a little too...um...grandiose for me. My eighth incarnation was something of a romantic soul, had a little bit of Byron or Shelley in him, I think. He had this thing carved. Do you know,” he continued, turning onto his side and propping himself up on his elbow to look at her. “I think it's been at least two hundred years since I last slept in this bed?”

“That's a long time, Doctor.” Donna leaned back on her hands to half recline on the bed and her eyes gazed upwards to study the four massive twisted posts supporting the canopy.

“What are you looking at?” he asked.

Feeling a bit of a daring streak flare up inside her, she flashed him a grin and said, “Notches.”

“Notches?”

“On your bedposts. You said Mr. Eight was quite the romantic and everyone knows what Byron was up to!”

“Oi!” the Doctor shot up straight and stared at her in shock. “That is..well, that is not a lie. Byron really was as twisted as the stories say, but I don't have any notches on my bedposts!” his voice squeaked a little.

“Oh calm down! I was just teasing you,” Donna replied, laughing.

He shook his head at her, settling back down onto the bed, but then he sat up again, his eyes bright. “Oh! I know what your reward should be!”

“My reward?”

“For besting me at Hide and Seek,” he explained. “You should get to sleep in the best bed in the TARDIS!”

“But...but it's _your_ bed,” Donna sputtered in shock.

“Yes, but I don't sleep here,” he replied. “The chaise, remember? You can sleep here tonight!”

“Oh Doctor, I couldn't...” she demurred, starting to shift off the mattress.

“But why not?” He seemed genuinely confused at her refusal to sleep in the bed.

“It...it wouldn't be right.”

Understanding dawned on his face and he gazed at her. “Donna, you know I wouldn't try anything. You're perfectly safe here.”

“I know, silly,” she said defensively. “It's just...”

“Just what?” he asked, raising an eyebrow in anticipation of her rebuttal.

But Donna couldn't think of anything to say. It was a generous offer and the bed felt so comfortable. “Nothing. Never mind. Ok, Spaceman, I'll sleep here tonight.”

“Great!” The Doctor flopped onto his back again, happy that she had agreed.

Donna hesitated, then lay back on the bed next to him. They lay there in silence for several long minutes, the firelight playing over their faces and casting dancing shadows on the walls. After a while, the Doctor slid his hand across the duvet to rest on top of Donna's. She jerked a little in surprise, but didn't pull away. Donna turned her hand over and tangled her fingers with his. “So what's it say?” she asked, breaking the silence.

The Doctor looked back up at the carved letters over their heads, glinting in the dim light. “It's a story,” he said. “Something of a Gallifreyan legend and some of my people like to carve or paint it onto their beds. Like I said, my eighth incarnation was a bit of a romantic.”

“Tell it to me?” she asked, yawning a little.

The Doctor sat up and pulled back the covers, silently inviting her to slide underneath. She gave him the briefest of scared looks before stifling it and crawling under the blankets. She tugged the covers up to her chin and looked at him, her eyes wide. She looked so nervous and the Doctor suppressed the urge to reach out and stroke her hair to comfort her. He was scared that if he tried to touch her, she'd jump out of the bed and run away. He decided to tell her the story, as she requested.

He lay back down and lifted a hand towards the canopy, his long fingers moving in intricate patterns as he traced the circular characters. “It's about a woman named Pelora. She lived beyond the Mountains of Solace and Solitude, in a crystal palace that sat on an island at the conjunction of seven rivers. Pelora was infinitely lonely, but extremely wise in the ways of love. It's said that she and Rassilon were once lovers, before he founded Time Lord Society. Men and women came from all over Gallifrey to seek her counsel, which Pelora freely gave. She could not help but wonder, however, why she was destined to be alone when others had their mates.

“Pelora had a sister named Nelia, who frequently visited her. On one such visit, Pelora confided her sadness to her sister. While Pelora was skilled in matters of the heart, Nelia was skilled in matters of the head. There's a rare tree that grows...grew...on Gallifey called an epimut tree. It was said that if a couple touches the wood of epimut, they will stay together forever. Out of love for her sister, Nelia scoured the surface of the planet looking for enough epimut trees to build a simple bed. It took her years, but she finally completed her task and brought the bed to her sister's home.

“Nelia told Pelora to sleep every night in that bed. If a man slept one night in the bed, he would be bonded to her forever. Pelora thanked her sister and waited for the right man to come to her seeking counsel. She waited and waited, but the right one never seemed to come. All of the men who graced her home sought only counsel for their own mates. No one came seeking love for themselves. Pelora began to despair until one day, a man appeared on her doorstep. Pelora was struck by his sweet countenance and gentle words and her heart ached with sorrow, knowing that she could never have a man like him for herself. The man told her that his name was Werstrem and he had heard of Pelora's wisdom and beauty. He had been unlucky in love himself and wanted to see if the stories of the wise woman were true. Curiosity and nothing more had brought him to her doorstep. He told her that he saw the stories were indeed true and asked Pelora to counsel him in matter of the heart. Pelora responded that she knew not the answer for one who had no mate. It was late and it was the custom of our people at the time to offer respite for travelers. Pelora offered him the guest bed and also her own, but warned him that the bed was made of epimut. Werstrem understood the implication and told Pelora that nothing would honor him more than to sleep in the bed of Pelora the Wise. They were married soon after and Pelora was lonely no longer.”

“Proper happy ending and all. That's a lovely story, Doctor,” Donna mumbled. Her eyes were closed and the Doctor could tell she was nearly asleep.

“It is,” he murmured, entranced by the sight of his companion resting in his bed. “I'm fond of happy endings.”

“Me too. Stay?” she asked, cracking one eye open a little to look at him.

He cocked his head to the side. “Are...are you sure? I mean, I can...the chaise...”

“Don't you get the moral of that story?” she asked, stifling a yawn.

“What?” he asked, confused.

“That stuff about Pelora finding her man. The moral is that no one should be alone, Doctor. Even you. Anyway,” she babbled. “It's been two hundred years since this bed's been slept in. It's your bed and it's only proper that you break its dry spell, not me.”

The Doctor pressed his lips together. “Well...” he said slowly. “I suppose. If you're ok with that.”

A soft smile formed on her tired face. “I wouldn't have asked if I wasn't ok with it, silly.”

“All right, then.” The Doctor slid off the bed to pull off his coat, shoes, and tie. He kept his shirt and trousers on for propriety's sake. Donna watched him through sleepy eyes as he slid under the covers with her, keeping his eyes on hers. “No funny stuff,” he promised.

“Yeah, yeah. You're the embodiment of the perfect gentleman.” Donna suddenly yawned and stretched, too tired to talk anymore. “Good night, Doctor.”

“Good night, Donna.”

He watched her as she drifted off to sleep, the firelight causing her hair to blaze against the dark blue fabric of the pillow. The Doctor turned onto his back and looked up again at the legend. He hadn't told her why his people carved the story on their beds. It was for luck and the belief that Pelora's happiness would continue to bless their unions. His eighth incarnation had held out for the hope that he'd possibly find a mate again, someone to share his adventures with. That's why he had created the bed, that lonely, romantic version of himself. But then the Time War had come and he'd been forced to destroy his own people. After the war, the Doctor couldn't bring himself to sleep in that bed again, not after what he'd done. Not after what he'd lost. All hope of finding a mate was gone forever.

He'd considered getting rid of the bed, but couldn't bring himself to do it. He'd wound up keeping it, for some twisted reason. Now he was glad that he hadn't done it, for now Donna lay in the bed with him.

The Doctor turned on his side towards her and he slowly reached across the bed and touched her cheek with his hand. In her sleep, Donna made a contented sound and snuggled into his caress. The Doctor's breath hitched and he began to shake. He quickly moved his hand away for fear of waking her and squeezed his eyes shut as dual sparks of fear and hope suddenly ignited inside his soul.

Maybe that eighth incarnation had been right along. And maybe it wasn't too late for him after all.

The Doctor had tried to hide, but love had sought him and found him anyhow.


	2. Hide and Seek 2

Donna woke up the next morning and stretched languorously. Yawning, she opened her eyes and bolted upright when she realized she wasn't in her own bed. Her eyes flickered around the room as she took in her location. _Oh bloody hell,_ she thought. _I'm in the Doctor's bedroom. In HIS BED._ She slowly turned her head and saw the top of a head covered in tousled brown hair just poking up from under the duvet. A light snoring emanated from under the covers. She was in bed...with the Doctor.

She flushed a brilliant shade of scarlet before remembering what had happened the night before and she relaxed a little. That's right. The game, her reward for beating the Doctor, and the story he'd told her. Donna's gaze moved up, to the underside of the canopy where the silver circular letters gleamed in the firelight. Such a lovely story...had the Doctor been pulling her leg? Immediately she dismissed that thought. The Doctor had no reason to lie to her. Taking a deep breath to calm her racing heart, Donna snuggled back down under the covers, but kept one eye on the slumbering Time Lord. She'd only seen him asleep once or twice since she'd started traveling with him. He was always awake, always teasing her for needing rest. "Humans sleep too much!" he'd complained more than once when she'd announced that she was knackered and was going to bed.

Curiosity got the better of Donna and she pulled the blue duvet down with care, so as not to disturb the Doctor. He was turned towards her, eyes closed, breathing slowly through slightly parted lips. One hand rested on the pillow next to his face, his long fingers curled slightly. She'd never seen him look so peaceful before and it was a stark contrast to the usual bouncing Time Lord who both amused and exhausted her with his youthful exuberance for adventures and danger. A shock of hair lay across his forehead and Donna resisted the urge to reach out and brush it away. Donna remembered how he'd touched the TARDIS' wall the night before, how his fingers had caressed the coral walls and it had made her uncomfortable. _Take that, you infernal machine. I'm actually in bed with him and you're not!_ she thought and smiled smugly.

She was in bed. WITH THE DOCTOR. Donna colored bright red again and wondered why she was acting like a Victorian virgin. It seemed so wrong to her, but at the same time it also felt like the most natural thing in the world to be cuddled up in his bed. _Like he'd ever try anything with me, anyway,_ she thought. _He's my best friend, not my...lover._ That thought made her turn even brighter and she squeaked and ducked her head under the covers. _You have got to stop thinking things like that!_ Donna yelled at herself.

There was a movement next to her and she sensed long legs stretching out and heard mumbling sounds. "Donna?" she heard the Doctor say a moment later, his voice deep and scratchy from sleep. "Why are you under the covers? What are you doing under there?"

 _Nice going, you idiot,_ she chastised herself. _You woke his gorgeous butt up._ Donna forced a smile on her face and popped her head out from under the duvet. "Erm...nothing. I just...it's nothing.”

The Doctor tilted his head to one side and quirked his left eyebrow, regarding her. It was clear he didn't believe her. “Are you still embarrassed about sleeping with me?” he inquired. As her face turned bright red, he added, “I mean sleeping with me in this bed?” he squeaked. He squeezed his eyes shut, waiting for the slap.

It never came. The Doctor opened one eyelid and saw Donna looking in the other direction. “Yeah.”

“Oh, well...nothing to be embarrassed about, is it? Nothing...happened. And it never would..."

“I know, Doctor.”

“Well, good. How did you sleep, though?” he asked, curious.

She turned towards him and there was a smile on her face. “Like a baby.”

“Oh, lovely!” he exclaimed and grinned. He reached out a hand and took hers. She didn't pull away and he squeezed firmly. “Because I want a rematch.”

“You...what?”

“You and I were both exhausted last night. I want,” he repeated, his chocolate brown eyes sparkling with mischief, “a rematch.”

Donna stared at him for a moment and then shook her head. “You really can't stand being bested, can you? What's worse? That it was a human or that it was in your own TARDIS?”

The Doctor shrugged. “Well, when you put it that way...both, I suppose. No matter. I'll beat you this time, just you wait.”

“Dream on, Spaceman,” Donna huffed. “What's my reward when I win again?”

The Doctor was silent for a moment. “What is it that you want?” he asked, his voice become low and intense, which surprised Donna.

She swallowed a little, feeling some of the earlier nervousness returning. Why was he looking at her like that? He shouldn't be looking at her like that. “Ah...oh...not much, Doctor. I'd be happy with another night in this wonderful bed."

“It would be my honor,” he replied, voice still quiet.

It was Donna's turn to raise an eyebrow. _It would be my honor,_ what kind of language was that? she wondered, but didn't have time to contemplate it because the Doctor had started babbling at her again.

“So, same as before. You hide, I'll seek. I'm really doing you a favor because I do know the ship better than you and know all sorts of places to hide where you'd never find me. Let's just say I'm evening the odds in your favor, hmm? This time I have to physically catch you, so even if I discover your hiding place, you can still get away and find another. Sort of like adding in Tag, yeah? And we'll also have a time limit...say, two hours. That should be enough. What do you say?”

“I say we should have some breakfast first. And I want to change my clothes.”

“Oh, of course,” he replied, waving a hand dismissively. He suddenly sprang out of bed and scurried over to his wardrobe, which he flung open. Inside, Donna could see a line of identical brown pinstripe and blue suits hanging from a bar. Interspersed were a few different colored shirts and warm Henleys. The Doctor grabbed a blue suit and a light blue shirt and headed for the bathroom. “Going to take a quick shower. Meet you in the kitchen in 20!” he called over his shoulder.

“Yeah, sure.”

“Great!” He flashed her a grin and bounced into the bathroom, slamming the door behind him. Donna slid out of bed and started towards the bedroom door, when a gleam of light from the open wardrobe caught her eye. Curious, she stepped over and peered in. Light emanated from the back wall of the wardrobe. She shoved the clothing aside and blinked in surprise. She was staring into the Wardrobe Room of the TARDIS, connected through the back of the Doctor's own wardrobe. Well, that made sense, didn't it? He could access the room quickly if he needed to. Donna climbed into the wardrobe, tripping over the Doctor's numerous pairs of Converse trainers, and passed through to the Wardrobe Room.

“It's like bloody Narnia, this place,” she grumbled. Around her, racks upon infinite racks of clothing hung on spiral bars, both above and below her. Donna knew this room well, having come here to find historical clothing for their adventures or just to kill time. She always found something different and exotic and it had become one of her favorite places on the ship. “I'll bet Mr. Tumnus is around here somewhere looking for his red scarf.”

Donna headed down the spiral staircase to the exit a few floors below, going to her room. She changed into jeans, a blue sweater, and trainers in case she had to run for it. She slipped a small flashlight that she'd brought with her from earth into her pocket. After shoving her red hair up into a pony tail, Donna headed for the kitchen. She found the Doctor already there trying to make tea and fuss over a pan of frying bacon at the same time. Laughing, Donna shoved him aside and tended the bacon while he saw to the tea.

They ate their breakfast quickly and then dumped everything into the equivalent of the TARDIS' dishwasher. One thing Donna loved about life with the Doctor was that there was very little washing-up to do. “Ready?” the Doctor asked her.

“Oh yes,” she replied, imitating his frequent phrase. “Warm, comfy, ridiculously huge bed...here I come.”

“We'll just see about that,” the Doctor answered coolly, then turned and hid his head against the wall and started counting, alternating between Martian and Gallifreyan.

“Show off!” Donna called as she tore off down the hall. Her feet pounded through the corridors as she tried to think of a place to hide. How did you outwit a Time Lord? Was it even possible? Donna sure as hell was going to try.

She continued to run, choosing corridors at random. It occurred to her after several minutes that she hadn't heard the Doctor's voice calling after her this time. There hadn't been a boisterous, “OLLIE OLLIE OXEN FREEEE!” She stopped to listen. The TARDIS was absolutely silent and even the usual background hum of the engines was absent. That was odd. Donna remembered that the Doctor had told her that he and the ship were linked symbiotically. If the Doctor was trying to be extra quiet, then maybe the ship was following suit.

“That's not fair,” she grouched to herself. The silence was unnerving. A shiver ran up Donna's spine. She felt like she was being hunted and she didn't like that feeling. She took two steps and then broke into a frantic run.

Donna was so used to her loud, bouncing Doctor that the silent, stalking Doctor somehow scared the wits out of her. Donna's instincts told her to go up, away from the danger. She knew the Doctor would have started lecturing about leftover primal instincts to flee into the trees from her ape ancestors had this been a different situation. She turned down a different corridor and found a flight of steps leading up. Donna flew up the steps a couple of flights.

A thought suddenly struck her. With all the noise she was making, it would be very easy for the Doctor to track her. She stopped and impulsively tugged off her trainers.

 _I've got to be like a cat,_ she thought. A glance down through the grating of the stairs revealed the flash of a blue jacket about five floors down. Donna panicked, dropped her sneakers, and raced down the corridor on tiptoes. The Doctor was way too close already.

She shoved open the first door she came to, ran inside, then shut it as quietly as possible. The room was a giant ball pit, filled with the small multi-colored plastic balls that she'd played in as a child. “Oh, what the hell,” she muttered and cannonballed into the pit, burying herself in the balls so she was hidden from view.

A moment later, she heard the door open. There was a pause and Donna held her breath. “Doooooonnaaaaa...” she heard the Doctor's voice sing out. There was a sinister edge to his voice and the icy shiver ran up her spine again, making the hairs on the back of her neck stand on end.

Donna squeezed her eyes shut. _Go away go away go away..._

“I know you came in here.”

_No, I didn't!_

“I saw your shoes on the landing."

_Oh. Crap!_

“We can do this the hard way or the easy way, Donna.”

What was he playing at? Why was he deliberately being so creepy?

“Very well, then. Have it your way.” There was another pause and then a sudden THUNK in the ball pit as the Doctor dove in headfirst. Donna erupted out of the pit before he could reach her and hit the floor running as his head came into view. He saw her dash out the door and grinned, calling, “You can run, but you can't hide! I'm coming to get you now!”

The metal grating of the flooring tore into Donna's bare feet as she found another staircase and fled up it as quietly as possible. She chose a door at random on the next floor and entered, shutting the door silently.

Donna's eyes grew wide when she turned around to see where she'd wound up. Stone walls met her gaze, different from the coral metallic walls that made up the rest of the TARDIS' interior. She took faltering steps down the hall. The wall on her left was made from solid grey stone hewn in enormous stacking blocks, like a medieval prison. In fact...Donna turned to the right and gasped. Three cells were lined up on the right. Tall iron bars with a wide door blocked in all three cells. Donna flipped on her flashlight with a trembling hand and turned the beam into the first cell. She saw a narrow bunk complete with scratchy blanket and...her blood turned to ice. There was a set of manacles set into the wall. Real, actual manacles.

Donna covered her mouth in shock and clicked the beam off, feeling tears spring to her eyes. Why did the Doctor have a prison on the TARDIS? She was thankful that the cells were empty. Donna spied another door at the other end of the hall and ran for it, wanting to be away from this gloomy, frightening place.

The door opened into a dark, dusty room with a high ceiling. Donna closed the door behind her and flicked her flashlight back on. Innumerable objects, boxes, and crates lay scattered and piled around the vast room. Donna's feet tread upon thick wooden boards, sending motes of dust swirling after her hesitant steps. “Must be the attic,” she breathed softly. The Doctor had mentioned once or twice that the TARDIS had an attic, but she'd never found it. Fortunately, the floor showed the fresh footprints of the Doctor's feet, which told Donna that he visited here frequently and that he wouldn't be able to track her easily in the disturbed dust.

But he was sure to look for her here. Donna somehow knew that. She couldn't see another exit, so she knew the best strategy was to try to hide as best as she could. There was no way he could search this entire room in less than two hours. Donna ran on tiptoes down a row of forgotten junk and spied a ladder made from two by fours nailed into the wall of the room. She looked up and saw the underside of a sort of loft in the pale beam of her flashlight. It seemed as good a place as any to hide, so she mounted the ladder and hoisted herself up.

The loft held several old chests, like ones that held pirate treasure. They were strangely free from dust, unlike the rest of the relics in the room. Donna settled down in front of one chest, hesitated, and then opened it. Inside was...gold. A lot of gold. “Blimey!” Donna whispered. “And he says he doesn't have any money.” She fingered one of the coins and examined it closer. “Cripes!” It was a doubloon. “That skinny git really does have pirate treasure stashed away.” She put the coin back and opened the other chests, most which held gold coins, though some held jewels and other precious objects.

The last trunk held nothing but a strange orb about the size of a softball. It glowed blue and yellow in the gloom. Donna picked it up and held it up to her eyes, To her shock, she saw an image of the Doctor appear. He was standing in one of the TARDIS' corridors looking around. “Ha!” Donna said out loud. “Finally got you off my trail!”

_He loves you._

Donna nearly dropped the orb. “Who said that?” she whispered.

There was no answer.

Donna looked around. “TARDIS, is that you?”

_He loves you._

Donna looked down at the orb in her hand. The voice was coming from it. She saw the Doctor spinning in a slow circle, as if choosing where to go. A look of pure concentration was on his face and he actually stopped and looked directly at her, seeing her but not seeing her.

_He loves you but he can't tell you. He's too afraid. The darkness he's seen, the deeds that he's done. It is too much. But he loves you and he wants to be with you. Forever._

“Stop it,” Donna demanded, staring down at the image of the Doctor in the orb cupped in her hands. “That isn't true and you know it. I don't know who or what you are, but so help me you better bleedin' just shut it right this...”

_Fear unites you. And loneliness, but you can end his loneliness, Donna Noble. And yours. You love the Doctor._

“No.” The Doctor was still looking up at her, as if waiting. “I can't. He's too alien...”

_Love knows no bounds. He asked you what you wanted. You want him._

Unnerved, Donna dropped the orb into the trunk and got to her feet. She saw a door in the wall and ran for it, flinging it open. She came out into the Wardrobe Room and shook her head in surprise. She thought she was several flights above it, but...nothing made sense in the TARDIS. It was worse than MC Escher's “Relativity” at times.

Donna slammed the door shut, shaking from what she'd experienced over the last hour. It was too much. She wanted to crawl into a hole and hide until the game was over and then...and then...she had no idea. Her instincts told her to flee to her room. It was less than five minutes away. She could curl up under the covers, lick her wounds, and wait for the Doctor to come and find her so she could lose. Fortunately, Donna's stubborn streak was much stronger than her will to quit and she abandoned all thoughts of giving in so easily. She squared her shoulders, and marched down the stairs of the Wardrobe Room. Sod it all. She'd go hide under the skirts of one of those eighteenth century dresses the Doctor was always harping at her to try on. She'd refused, saying she'd look like a walking fireplace and her hips were wide enough, thank you, and she didn't need panniers to help her. What was it with him and eighteenth century getup? Was he just into that time period, or what? _The last thing I need,_ she thought, _is a Time Lord with a fascination with eighteenth century Europe with its depraved courts and Venetian balls and French revolutions and bloody Casanovas._

Donna found the section with the eighteenth century costumes and a particularly hideous purple and green creation with acres of ruffles and bows hanging from the rack. Donna thought of it as the Barney dress. Yes, it would do nicely. She dropped to her knees and crawled under the voluminous skirt that skimmed the ground. Unfortunately, she didn't notice the costume next to it, which was a palace guard's outfit complete with unsheathed saber. Her movements loosened the saber and it fell, slicing cleanly through the jeans covering the calf of her right leg as she crawled under the dress.

She let out a piercing scream as hot pain shot through her leg. Donna turned over to sit down and examine her leg. Dark blood was soaking the leg of her jeans and she rocked back and forth momentarily, struggling to stay calm. Pressure. She needed to apply pressure. There was an entire bureau of old handkerchiefs and scarves one floor down. Donna scrambled awkwardly out from under the gown, dripping blood everywhere as she hopped and dragged herself down the stairs to the bureau where the accessories were kept. She grabbed half a dozen old cravats, trying to remember her First Aid classes from school. Elevate the wound, yeah. Ok. Donna lay down and tried to simultaneously prop her leg up on the open drawer of the bureau and apply pressure, but she couldn't get enough leverage on her bleeding calf to do any good.

Donna groaned in frustration, knowing she needed the Doctor. She also knew that calling the Doctor would make her lose the game. She looked at her leg again and saw that the blood flow wasn't stopping. The cravats were soaked. “Sod it all!” she groaned. Donna was stubborn, but she wasn't stupid. She wasn't going to let herself bleed to death just to win a stupid child's game. She opened her mouth and hollered, “DOCTOR!”

There was no answer. Donna shut her eyes, trying to stay calm. He must be too far away to hear her. Terrific. She was going to bleed to death and it would have nothing to do with stubbornness.

Meanwhile in the attic, the Doctor followed the bare footprints up the loft ladder and he froze. Oh no. No no no. She didn't go up there. He really hoped she didn't. Sighing, he mounted the ladder and climbed up. The chests were all closed except for one, just as he feared. “Oh no,” he breathed, looking down into the open chest at the softly glowing orb. The Orb of Veracity was intrusive and dangerous, which is why he kept it locked up in the attic. He shut his eyes, knowing what had happened. When held, the orb revealed the deepest desires and secrets of people in the closest vicinity of the user. The Doctor had been the only one close by when Donna had picked it up. “She knows,” he said softly and swallowed. “She knows everything.”

Unable to resist, the Doctor lifted the orb from the chest and held it in his cupped palms. He waited for the image of Donna to appear as he knew it would. When it did, he almost dropped it in shock. He wrested down the panic and studied the image of Donna briefly, before depositing the orb back into the chest and shoving the lid down with a resounding crash. The Doctor raced for the door to the Wardrobe Room. “Donna?!” he called, taking the steps two at a time. He stopped when he saw a deep pool of crimson blood by the eighteenth century clothing and streaks of blood leading further down the staircase. “Donna!”

Donna was starting to feel a bit tired and dizzy from the blood loss. Her ears suddenly heard the sound of the Doctor calling her name and relief flooded through her. “Here!” she tried to call out, but it wasn't any louder than her usual voice.

It seemed to be enough, though, because she heard the reassuring clatter of his trainers on the stairs and he suddenly appeared in front of her. His eyes went wide when he saw the deep, gaping wound along the back of her right calf. “Had a bit of an accident,” she said, trying to smile. “A stupid effing rogue sword caught me. Guess I've lost the game, huh?”

“Don't worry about that now,” he replied as he shifted into emergency gear. He bent down and scooped her up into his arms as if she weighed nothing. “Let's get you to the medical bay and see to that leg.” His voice had become clipped and efficient.

Donna was deeply embarrassed that she had to be carried like a baby. “Oh come on, I can walk.”

“Don't be daft. You've lost a lot of blood. I saw most of it on the steps.”

“But I'm bleeding all over you,” she complained.

“Don't worry about me, Donna. I'm wash and wear.” He hit the corridor and and raced for the medical bay. Donna's pale, clammy skin, staring eyes, and rapid pulse told him she was going into shock and that was very dangerous.

“How come you got a prison, then?” she mumbled out of the blue.

“What?” he asked in confusion as he entered the medical bay and deposited her onto a diagnostic table.

“I found this room, had three cells. Grey stone walls like...like the Tower of London, it was. Creepy. And manacles.” Donna shuddered and the Doctor couldn't tell if it was from memory or her injury.

“Oh...that.” He hadn't been up there in ages. “Donna, I'll tell you about that later. Right now, I'm worried about your...”

“And what was with you bein' all creepy-like?” she demanded. “Mr. 'You can run but you can't hide' in that sinister voice? You've never been like that before, all silent and weird. I don't like it! I don't!” she yelled, shoving him away.

“Donna,” he repeated, keeping his voice calm, but he grabbed her hands. “I'd love to talk about this, really I would. But now,” he emphasized, “now I need to take care of that leg. That sword knicked a major artery. I think you know what that means.”

But Donna ignored him. “I'm not gonna play with you any more if you're going to get all weird on me!” Donna knew she sounded like a spoiled child, but her outburst made the Doctor smile.

“Ok,” he agreed. “I won't get weird on you any more. At least, I'll try not to.” He patted her hand quickly and then said, “I really need to get your pants off.”

Donna's unfocused eyes grew round. “See! You're being weird! You ain't gettin' into my pants, Sunshine!” she bellowed, shooting up straight into a sitting position. “Just MATES, remember? Oh...” The world swam around her and she groaned, pressing a hand to her head.

The Doctor sighed, exasperated. “Your leg,” he said slowly and deliberately as if speaking to a small child. “I cannot treat it with your pants on. They have to come off.”

“Oh,” Donna replied in a small voice as realization dawned on her through her fuzzy mind. “Yeah...right, ok.” She frowned. “But you're going to see me in my...in my....”

“Knickers?” he offered, trying to be helpful.

“Oi!”

“There's worse things than me seeing you in your knickers.” He didn't tell her that he didn't really mind seeing her in her underpants, knowing that would have earned him a slap. “But if it really bothers you, I think I have a solution.” The Doctor rummaged in a drawer under the table and came up with a large cloth drape. “You can put this over yourself to preserve your modesty, ok?”

Donna instantly looked relieved. “Thanks, Doctor.” He placed the drape on her lap and she fumbled underneath the cloth for the closure to her jeans. It took her several tries, but she managed to undo them and she lay back down on the table and lifted her hips to shove her jeans off. The movement tore into her calf and she cried out in pain. Blood poured from her wound and the Doctor quickly put his hands on her shoulders.

“Donna, stop! You're making it worse. Let me do this.” She'd managed to get her jeans halfway off. The Doctor bent over her and reached under the covering. She felt his fingers search around, grazing the skin on the outside of her thighs before he found the waistband. His touch was electric and her breath hitched. Donna squeezed her eyes shut, feeling guilty for enjoying his touch on her skin when he was only trying to help her. The Doctor pulled her jeans off, carefully easing them over her injured calf. “I need you to turn over,” he instructed. “I can get to the wound better that way.”

She awkwardly rolled onto her stomach while he held the drape in place. Donna crossed her arms and rested her forehead against her wrists, fighting back waves of sudden nausea. She felt the weight of a warm blanket covering her body. Her breaths were shallow and she seemed to float in a swirling fog. She instinctively knew she shouldn't lose consciousness and she fought to stay awake. Donna could hear the Doctor babbling at her, but half of his words were incoherent. There was something about low blood pressure and volume expanders and possible transfusions. She felt the prick of a needle in her upper arm at one point and yelped in protest. Long, cool fingers brushed the hair out of her face and caressed her cheek as reassuring words filled her ears. The Doctor was telling her that she was going to be ok, he was going to take care of her, he wouldn't let anything happen to her. Without thinking, she snuggled into his touch, exactly like when she'd been asleep the night before. His hand stilled on her face for a long moment and then it was gone.

The fog lifted a little and the pain in her leg diminished. Out of nowhere, Donna remembered what the orb had told her. He loves you.

 _It can't be,_ she thought to herself. But the orb had also told her what she really felt inside. _I love him. But I can't tell him. No way can I tell him. I don't know how and I'm too afraid._

Donna lifted her head and her eyes shifted so she was looking over her shoulder. She could just see the top half of the Doctor. He'd taken off his jacket, rolled up his sleeves, and had donned purple gloves. He'd put on his brainy glasses and they had slipped halfway down his face. The Doctor frowned in concentration as he worked on her leg, his hair sticking out wildly in every direction. She couldn't see what he was doing to her, but whatever it was didn't hurt. A delirious giggle escaped her. She wasn't sure why she was laughing. Had he given her something to make her loopy? She didn't know.

The Doctor paused and regarded her, peering at her over his glasses. “What's so funny, Donna?”

“You really are the doctor, aren't you?”

A smirk crossed his face. “When I need to be,” he replied. “But I admit it's not something I like to do, especially when it comes to my companions.” He went back to work on her leg.

Donna dropped her head back down to her arms. “'Spose not,” she remarked. “Sorry I went and got myself hurt.”

“It wasn't your fault,” the Doctor told her. “I should have stored that saber better. Isn't it ironic that out of all the life-threatening situations we've been in, you've never once been seriously injured? It's only until we played a child's game on the TARDIS that you were finally hurt bad enough to warrant a trip to the medical bay.”

“Over seventy percent of serious accidents occur at home,” Donna quipped.

“Maybe we shouldn't play Hide and Seek anymore.”

“Hopscotch,” she told him. “We'll play hopscotch. On Exicoria. Lots of asphalt there to draw a chalk hopscotch board.”

“That sounds safe enough, though you won't be hopping anywhere on this leg for a few days.” He finished with whatever he was doing and Donna felt a cool wetness on her skin. She looked back over her shoulder and saw that he was cleaning the blood off her skin with something akin to baby wipes.

“What'd you do?”

“Hmm?” He seemed very absorbed in his task. “Oh, just a little of this and a little of that. I used a dermal regenerator to close up the wound. It will be sore and you might have a slight limp while the tissues heal, but it will only last a day or two. No scarring, though.”

“Brilliant, ” she breathed. She wasn't looking forward to a nasty scar on her leg and was glad there wouldn't be one.

The Doctor finished and stripped his gloves off, dropping them into a waste bin. “You can turn over now.” Donna flipped slowly onto her back and the Doctor bundled her up into the blanket, pulling the drape away once she was covered. He lifted her up into his arms and started for the door.

“Where are we going?” Donna asked. “And why won't you let me walk now?”

“You really want to walk around the TARDIS in your knickers?” he asked, looking down at her. “After all that fuss? I'm taking you to bed. You need to rest.”

“But my room's in the other direction,” she pointed out.

He grinned down at her and wiggled his eyebrows. “Who said I was taking you to your room? There's a perfectly good bed in mine.”

Donna stared at him even as an excited shiver ran down her spine. “Doctor,” she said, trying to bring a warning note into her voice.

He didn't buy it. “The game was a draw,” he explained. “On account of your injury. Your reward if you'd won was to sleep in my bed again. Had I won, my reward was to have you sleep in my bed again, too. I enjoy watching you sleep there.”

“Oh.” Donna felt that she ought to be disturbed by the fact that he liked watching her sleep, but she didn't. She found it endearing instead, knowing that he was watching over her.

“I can take you back to your room,” he offered and she heard the disappointment in his voice. “If you want to recover there instead.”

Donna pressed her lips together. “No way,” she replied. “I don't want to be anywhere else.”

The gravity of those words weren't lost on him and he took a deep breath as he entered his bedroom. He lay Donna down on the bed and she wiggled out of the blanket. He caught a brief flash of red underpants before she tugged the covers over herself, looking up at him. They looked into each others' eyes for a long moment. “Thanks,” Donna finally said. “For helping me.”

The Doctor decided to take a chance. He sat down on the edge of the bed next to her and reached out a hand, cupping her chin and running his thumb along her jawline. “You're welcome,” he whispered. Donna closed her eyes at his caress, shaking slightly. It was just like yesterday, when she'd seen him touch the TARDIS' walls. _Oh my god,_ she thought. _It's true. It's bloody well true. He does love me._ Tears spilled from her eyes, running down her cheeks. She felt the Doctor wipe them away. “What is it, Donna? Tell me what's wrong. Please?” he sounded like he was almost pleading with her. “Are you in pain?”

She opened her eyes and sniffed. He was looking down at her with concern in his eyes. “No, Doctor. Just...I'm just happy, that's all.”

The Doctor looked relieved. “Oh. Good.” There was an awkward silence between them, something that the Doctor hated. He pulled his hand away and scratched uneasily behind one ear before he opened his mouth and started babbling. “So...um...that prison you found. It hasn't been used in ages. The Time Lords used to send me out on little errands from time to time to pick up renegades, wanted people...”

“Like a bounty hunter?”

“Kind of, yeah. That was long ago, though. I completely forgot that it was still around. I kept my prisoners in there if they were dangerous or less than cooperative. I think it's only been used two or three times since I've been traveling in the TARDIS.”

“And what about that stalking behavior...”

He giggled in a slightly sadistic way. “I was playing with you.”

She sat up in bed, feeling indignant. “It creeped the hell out of me, Doctor!”

“I know,” he said. He put his hands over hers and squeezed. “And I'm sorry. I was just having a game, messing with your primal instincts. I won't do it again, Donna. I promise.”

“You'd better not,” she threatened. “Not if you know what's good for you!” He could tell that she was mollified, though, by the way she settled back into the pillows.

“I consider myself warned.” He reached out again and touched her cheek. “And now I think you should get some rest.” He winked. “Doctor's orders.”

“When have I ever followed your orders?” she retorted, but there was a smile on her face. Her eyes flickered up to the canopy at the Gallifreyan writing. “Doctor?”

“Hmm?” he was still touching her face and seemed distracted.

“How long did Pelora wait for her man?”

He shrugged. “It's just a legend, Donna.”

“I know, but how long do you think she waited?”

His hand slid up to brush her hair out of her eyes and she didn't flinch away. The Doctor was quietly pleased and then surprised when her hand moved over to his leg and she entwined her fingers with his, watching his face. He gave her a half-smile. “Time Lords live for centuries, so it's hard to say. But I think,” he leaned in closer so that their noses were almost touching and he whispered, “that she waited long enough.” Donna's eyes closed and he kissed her very softly on the forehead, expecting a slap or a sound of protest. None came.

The Doctor pulled back and saw that Donna was staring at him not in shock or horror, but with an expression of disbelief. “I'm sorry,” he mumbled. “I was too forward...”

“No,” she cut him off. “It...it was nice, Doctor. And I agree. I think she waited long enough, too.” She sat up carefully, still holding onto his hand, her eyes searching his. “I don't mind if...if you kiss me.”

The Doctor didn't say anything for a long moment, just stared into her blue eyes with his ancient brown ones. Donna mentally kicked herself. She was the one who was being too forward now. A smile slowly broke out on his face, but then he suddenly frowned in doubt. “Are you sure?” he asked, then launched into full babble-mode. “It could be the drugs I gave you. You're not exactly yourself right now. I don't want you to think I'm taking advantage of this situation. You've lost a lot of blood and your mental faculties might be imp...”

He was cut off when Donna rolled her eyes and planted a kiss on his lips, silencing him. She sat back after a minute, flushing bright red. “How's that for being impaired, mister?”

The Doctor blinked in shock, then have her a boyish grin. “Oh, brilliant! Just...brilliant!”

Donna snuggled down into the pillows, a wave of sleepiness washing over her. The Doctor saw how exhausted she was and let go of her hand, tucking the blankets around her. “Get some sleep,” he said quietly, but he was still grinning.

“Don't go.”

“I'll be right here,” he promised.

She drifted off to sleep and the Doctor waited until her breathing become slow and deep before he slipped off the bed and went around to the other side. He stretched out next to her, closing his eyes and willing all the emotions that were coursing through him to settle down. He'd experienced everything from terror when he'd discovered Donna wounded to relief when she hadn't killed him when he kissed her forehead to complete exhilaration when she'd kissed him a moment ago. He'd come the closest he'd ever had to losing her today and it had scared him. The Doctor hadn't been scared in a long time, not like that. It was a lot to handle and he knew he needed to go slow, to take things as they came. He didn't know if Donna felt the same about him, but she hadn't pushed him away or fled from him.

He'd just have to wait to find out what happened between them as they both came out of hiding and sought each others' affections. “Ollie ollie oxen free,” he murmured.


	3. Cuddles and Quotations

Donna awoke slowly to the unfamiliar sensation of being cuddled.

She lay curled up on her left side and someone was snuggling her from behind. _What the hell?_ Her eyes popped open and she glanced down to the bare arm that was tucked across her waist over the duvet. Under the covers, a body with a core temperature slightly cooler than hers was pressed against her backside. Donna looked over at the chaise lounge and saw a blue shirt covered in blood and a pair of brown pinstripe trousers tossed over the back. _Bloody hell_ , she thought, as memories of the day before (or was it earlier today?) flooded through her mind. The game, the sword, the Doctor saving her life before she bled to death on the Wardrobe Room floor.

Now he was naked in bed with her because he certainly wasn't wearing his usual geek chic getup. And she wasn't wearing anything more than a sweater and her underwear. _I shouldn't have kissed the bugger_. Fighting to keep herself from panicking, Donna concentrated on the body behind her. She felt the unmistakable feeling of fabric against her bare legs and realized with some relief that the Doctor was wearing pajamas. Ok, not quite naked then. Donna wasn't sure whether to be glad or disappointed.

_What the hell do I do now?_ The thing was...she really didn't mind cuddling with the affectionate Time Lord. _Really_ , she told herself, _it's not much different from one of his usual hugs, ain't it? It's just like a hug...except you're lying down. In bed. And he's hugging you from behind. And he's asleep. And you're half naked. Ok, so not like a normal hug, then._

Unnerved, Donna dared to straighten her legs out to try and wiggle her way out of his arms. The Doctor made a discontented sound and shifted, entwining her ankles with his long calves and preventing her from moving. Donna froze. She was completely trapped, entangled in the Doctor's unconscious embrace.

She was cognizant of his twin heartbeats thumping against her back and she went still. The rhythm was strange and alien, but comforting at the same time. Donna realized her own heartbeat had slowed and matched every other beat of his two hearts. She closed her eyes and felt the slow rise and fall of his chest against her body. The Doctor wasn't intentionally keeping her captive. He was simply asleep and she was a warm body to cuddle. A small grin broke out on Donna's face. She'd always suspected he was a cuddler. She had once caught him napping on the Library sofa and found him clutching one of the throw pillows like a small child hugged a teddy bear. With everything that the Oncoming Storm had done, she wasn't surprised that he sometimes wanted something, or someone, to hold now and then.

Donna adjusted her own breaths to match his so as not to wake him. After a moment, their breathing patterns merged. A feeling of pure wonder flooded through Donna at the sensation of their bodies breathing together in unison while the Doctor held her. They almost seemed to be of one body, one entity. She'd never experienced something so intimate with him and, to both her delight and dismay, a sensation of desire thrilled through her. She'd never really thought of the Doctor in that way, even after what the Orb of Veracity had shown her yesterday in the TARDIS attic. But now that she knew he loved her, well...that changed things. A lot. And Donna wasn't sure how to handle that.

The Doctor softly mumbled in his sleep and snuggled even closer to her. Their bodies were nestled together and Donna swallowed in discomfort. She could feel bits of him, very _male_ bits of him, against her bottom. Those were the bits that she was pretty sure she was supposed to pretend didn't exist, but it was very obvious that they did. _Oh. My. God._

She immediately launched into a full mental chastisement. _Stop being such a prude, Donna! Of course he's got those....bits. In the end, he's a bloke, yeah? Doesn't matter if he's an alien, he's a still a bloke. Time Lords must reproduce somehow. He looks human enough, so it's logical that they do it the same way humans do. Blimey, what am I thinking? I am in bed. With the Doctor. He's got me trapped in his arms. And he's obviously got...those bits and they're poking into me! I don't think I've ever been more aroused and more uncomfortable in my entire freaking life!_

She changed tactics, trying to reassure herself that it wasn't a big deal. _Look, Donna, he's practically a monk_ , she told herself. _He doesn't just jump in the sack with anyone, which is surprising considering how damn handsome he is._ She paused as her thought-locomotive changed tracks, running full steam in a direction that she'd never been. _I wonder if he's the same as human guys? Or do a Time Lord's twig and berries look different?_ _Oh my god! What am I thinking?! Donna Noble, you're a naughty girl!_ The locomotive derailed, flipped, then crashed and burned. Donna smirked, both embarrassed and delighted with herself even as a slow blush rolled across her body. She concentrated again on the Doctor pressed intimately against her backside. _Bloody hell...he must be having a really good dream, by all accounts._ _Wonder if he's dreaming about stroking the TARDIS?_ A naughty giggle escaped from her lips.

Either the rise in her core temperature or the giggle caused the Doctor to stir. Donna felt his heartbeats accelerate as he awoke and his breath hitched. There was an awkward silence as he realized that he was in a very compromising position with his companion. His embrace stiffened for a second, then relaxed momentarily, then stiffened again as he disentangled his limbs from hers and scrambled backwards. Donna rolled onto her back to look at him and almost laughed at his expression. His brown eyes were two huge round saucers as he stared at her and his Adam's apple bobbed as he swallowed. He looked terrified and Donna immediately felt sympathy for him. “I am so sorry!” he squeaked. “I didn't mean...”

“Doctor,” she cut him off. “Don't be. Really. It's ok. You were asleep.” She decided not to mention she had felt his body's reaction to her. It was obvious he knew and he look mortified enough.

He blinked at her in disbelief. “And you're not...?”

“No, you prawn! It's fine. You just wanted a cuddle, that's all. I don't see your teddy bear, so I suppose I'm the next best thing.”

“Time Lords don't...don't have teddy bears.” He lifted a hand and ran it through his messy hair, looking away.

Donna could see that he wore short sleeved blue and white striped pajamas. _Good lord, even his jammies are pinstriped!_ “Maybe you should get one. You're the last of the Time Lords, so there's no one left to make fun of you.”

He didn't say anything, just shifted uncomfortably underneath the covers and Donna realized he was trying to control his body. _Yeah, that's right. Down boy. Reign in the discostick._ She paused. _He has got to stop listening to Lady Gaga when he's flying the TARDIS. I'm going to kill Martha and that Jack fellow, whoever he is, for getting him addicted to that crazy woman's music. It's rubbing off on me and not in a good way._

“Doctor, what time is it?” she asked, trying to distract him by changing the subject.

“Round about 2 in the morning, I suppose,” he replied, still looking away. “You've been asleep for more than fourteen hours.”

“Blimey.”

He looked back at her and he seemed more composed. “How are you feeling?”

Donna sat up and the world swam around her. “Oooh, dizzy,” she replied, gripping the covers with her hands and closing her eyes. She hadn't really noticed, but now that she was able to concentrate on other things, she realized she didn't feel well. “A little nauseated. Think I might be dehydrated. My throat's like the bloody Sahara.”

He shifted and placed his hands on her shoulders, gently pressing her back down to the bed. “Lie down, Donna.”

She readily complied and looked up into his concerned face as he touched her neck, feeling for her pulse while his other hand brushed across her forehead. “Rapid pulse, you're pale, and you're sweating a lot. Your blood pressure is still low. I think it's hypovolemia.” The Doctor crossed his arms and sat back.

“What's that?”

“Similar to dehydration, but it's caused by sodium depletion due to blood loss, not from losing water. Donna, you lost a lot of blood yesterday. I gave you a blood volume expander and you stabilized quickly. I hoped that would take care of it, but it obviously didn't. You need fluids, rest, and a solid meal.”

Donna's stomach rumbled at the thought of food, despite her nausea. “I could murder a cheeseburger and chips about now.”

The Doctor cracked a smile. “That's good to hear,” he said. “Might upset your stomach though. You stay here and relax. I'll be back in a tick.” He slid off the bed, pulled on a dark blue dressing gown and slippers, and padded out the door.

Donna looked back over to his clothing on the chaise lounge. His blue shirt was covered in ugly dark brown stains of dried blood. She suspected his brown pinstriped trousers were probably in the same condition, though it was hard to tell on the dark fabric. How much had she lost? She recalled dim images of a deep puddle of blood underneath her. The Doctor had said something about nicking an artery. She sat up and pushed down the covers to look at her right calf where the falling saber had sliced into her leg.

The room spun, but she ignored it. Her calf was perfectly fine, completely healed. She flexed her foot and winced. Her muscles were stiff and sore, but the Doctor had told her that she would be for a day or two.

She then wondered why the Doctor had fallen asleep. He'd slept the night before and shouldn't need anymore sleep. Had the whole fiasco worn him out? He'd even put on pajamas and he hardly ever wore jammies. Donna knew he had clean suits in the wardrobe. Why hadn't he just changed his clothes?

The obvious answer slammed into her and she felt tears welling up in her eyes. He'd stayed to watch over her. She remembered his words from the day before, “I like watching you sleep.” He knew that she would sleep for an extended amount of time, so he'd dressed for bed. He wasn't content with sitting on the chaise lounge and waiting for her. He'd crawled into bed to get some rest himself and he must have been exhausted after the game, taking care of her, then watching over her as she recovered. Maybe he'd wound up snuggling with her because it was his subconscious way of both protecting her and getting the sleep he needed at the same time. Donna wiped her eyes and sniffed. No one had ever treated her like that. The Doctor made her feel loved and wanted like no one else ever had and she knew she loved him in return for it.

Her thoughts were interrupted when the Doctor reappeared, carrying a tray. He came around the bed and set it down on the nightstand, then raised an eyebrow and grinned slowly. There was something both seductive and unsettling about that smile. Donna gave him a confused look and then saw where he was looking. She glanced down and realized she was completely uncovered and her bare legs and red knickers were showing. Blushing in embarrassment, she tugged the sheet back over herself. _What are you looking at, Spaceman?_ She opened her mouth to snap at him, but that smile made any scathing remark instantly evaporate. He'd never looked at her like that before.

The Doctor cleared his throat and looked away, but he was still smiling. “How's your leg?”

“Fine,” she said weakly. “Doctor, I need some jammies. This ain't exactly proper, you know.”

“Of course,” he replied. “In fact, those long sweater sleeves will probably get in the way.”

_Get in the way of what?_ she wondered ashe walked over to his wardrobe, tugged it open, shoved his suits aside, and climbed through the back to the Wardrobe Room. Donna laughed out loud at the sight. He popped his head back through, grinning like a happy little boy. “It's like going to Narnia, Donna!”

“I thought the same thing!”

“Got the idea from CS Lewis!”

“Why am I not surprised?”

“Right, be back in a jiff.” He returned less than a minute later with an article of clothing draped over his arm. “Would this work?” he asked, holding it up. Donna regarded it and it was her turn to raise her eyebrow. It was straight out of the 1970's, she suspected, when babydolls were popular. The top was made of soft pink silk, empire waisted in a crossover style. Alternating rows of satin ribbons and delicate scalloped lace followed the crossover. Eyelet lace threaded with a larger satin ribbon surrounded the bottom of high waistline, ending in a bow under the bust. The rest of the gathered material flowed down to her hips. The sleeves were short and fluttery. There were matching silk pajama shorts trimmed with more scalloped lace and tied with a satin ribbon. The pajamas were lovely, but looked like something she'd have worn as a teenager with romantic notions in her head. The Doctor seemed strangely anxious and she figured that it wasn't often he had to choose pajamas for other people, not to mention females.

“Not something I'd expect to convalesce in,” she admitted, “but I suppose it will do.”

“Oh, good.” He looked relieved and dropped the pajamas onto the bed, then cleared his throat. “Um, do you need help or...?”

Donna gave him a half-smile. “I think I can manage, Doctor. I don't feel well, but I'm not an invalid.”

“Oh, ok. I'll just...” He gestured with one hand and then turned his back. “Tell me when you're done or if, ah, you need me,” he said over his shoulder.

Donna kept one eye on him as she slipped out of her sweater and bra (which had become rather uncomfortable), then tugged on the pajamas. The silk felt rich and sensuous against her skin. She was a little dismayed that the cross-over top showed off some of her cleavage. It wasn't enough to be obscene, but more than she felt comfortable revealing. Donna snuggled down under the covers and tugged the blankets up to her chin. Problem solved. “All done.”

The Doctor turned back around and he made a face when he saw her under the covers. He moved her discarded clothing to the chaise lounge and stepped over to the tray. “Sit up, Donna. I brought you something to eat.”

Donna pressed her lips together and obeyed, contemplating whether to pull the sheet up over her chest. She knew it wouldn't have stayed, though, and she let it drop. The Doctor didn't seem to notice. He placed the tray in her lap and it contained a steaming bowl of soup, some bread, and an enormous glass of water. “It's not much, just some vegetable beef soup, but it's got lots of sodium and that's what you need right now. Anything heavier might upset your stomach. Those croissants are special. They come from a boulangerie in Paris from the turn of the 19th century.” He continued babbling about how his seventh incarnation's companion, Ace, had nearly eaten all of his croissants before he'd manage to preserve them in the kitchen.

She picked up the glass of water, realizing how thirsty she was. She almost had the glass to her lips when the Doctor snatched it from her hand with a cry of, “Oh! I almost forgot!” He rummaged in his dressing gown pocket and pulled out a curly crazy straw, the kind Donna had when she was a kid. He popped the straw into the glass with a flourish and handed it back to her, smiling broadly. Donna smiled back and sipped the water, giggling a little as the liquid spiraled and spun through the complex curves of the plastic straw. A bead of condensation rolled down the glass and the Doctor watched, fascinated, as it dripped off the end and straight into her cleavage. He stared, eyes going a little round at the sight.

Donna followed his line of sight and then calmly set the glass down on the tray with a resounding thud. The sound seemed to startle him out of his reverie and his eyes flickered up to her face, his countenance guilty. “I suspected you were a boob man,” Donna said lightly.

His jaw dropped, then closed, and he looked away. “I...uh...sorry...they just um...”

“Can't help but notice them. They _are_ attached to me, you know,” Donna replied. The Doctor peeked back at her and couldn't believe that she wasn't furious at him for staring at her cleavage. This was a change...a great change! The Doctor perked up a little at the thought. He'd twice done something that the old Donna would have raked him over the coals for, but she'd dismissed each situation with a calm demeanor. Curious, the Doctor let his eyes drift back to the front of her shirt.

Donna had picked up the croissant and was munching with a look of sheer bliss on her face. “Oh, you weren't kidding, Doctor. This is amaz...” She stopped chewing when she saw where he was looking and frowned. She then reached out her hand and gently took his chin, tipping his head back up to look her in the eyes. “I'm right here, Dumbo. Ain't nothing down there but Thelma and Louise and they're not nearly as interesting as what's up here.”

“But they're so nice...” the Doctor started to argue, but then caught himself. “Wait...Thelma and Louise?”

“Yep. Always trying to escape confinement. They look like they're fit to burst out of this top, don't you think?” She took a nonchalant bite of her croissant as the Doctor blushed bright red. Donna giggled internally and found she enjoyed seeing the almighty Time Lord embarrassed, even though she knew that was wrong. In some twisted sense, it was her way of getting back at him for trapping her and poking at her with his bits and making her squirm.

The Doctor cleared his throat and turned his back for a second or two. Donna resisted the urge to laugh. He seemed to regain his composure as he reached into his dressing gown pocket and withdrew a long, metal bar about twelve inches long. Donna couldn't hold back anymore and peals of laughter spilled from her lips. “Your pockets! Bigger...on the inside...” she chuckled. “Just like your jacket.” _Too bad your pajama bottoms aren't bigger on the inside...cause you could use it._ The thought made her laugh even harder.

The Doctor turned and smiled at her, delighted with her amusement. He held the bar up and gave a quick snap with his wrist. To Donna's astonishment, the bar stretched out at either end a few more feet. Four small legs appeared at one end and two hooks appeared at the other. The Doctor set it upright next to the bed. “Ta da!” he sang, throwing his hands out theatrically. He pulled two IV bags, one containing a clear liquid and the other a yellow, from his impossible pockets and hung them on the stand. “I brought the medical bay to you because I know how much you don't like it there.”

Donna's laughter died in her throat as she nervously regarded the IV stand. Worry crossed her face and she looked at the Doctor, who was smiling back at her in a not-quite-convincing way. The Doctor knew damn well that she was terrified of needles. There wasn't a lot that Donna Noble was truly frightened of, but needles were one of the few exceptions. She'd mentioned it to him once when they'd been laying around in the Library getting drunk out of sheer boredom. He'd had his requisite banana daiquiri and she'd had a few glasses of wine. They'd been talking about childhood fears and he'd mumbled about looking into the time vortex and running away. Donna told him she was scared of needles. Always had been, always would be.

“No way, Sunshine. Unh-unh. You put those thoughts right out of your head,” she growled at him, waving her half-eaten croissant as threateningly as she could. French baked goods generally make poor weapons, except perhaps day-old baguettes. Donna wished she'd had one handy.

“Now Donna, be reasonable,” the Doctor said soothingly. “You can just close your eyes and relax...” He stepped closer to her, reaching for her arm. His gentle, hypnotic voice sometimes worked when she was reluctant to go along with this schemes, but not this time. Donna was strong enough to resist him and fear only strengthened her resolve.

“Oh no, you don't! Don't you try that Time Lord mumbo jumbo on me, mister!” She tried to scoot away from him, but the heavy tray in her lap and the nausea made that difficult. She settled for fighting back with words. “And I am being reasonable! I reason that I don't want you shoving any more needles into me. You stuck me last night, don't think I don't remember that! My arm still hurts.” Her voice changed from less demanding and more wheedling. “Doctor, I'm eating and I'm drinking and I'll be ok. Rest and food and fluids, that's what you told me. Well, I'm getting all of that now. Give me a day or two and I'll be fine. Really. I don't need anything more.”

“Donna,” the Doctor sighed and sat down carefully on the bed next to her. “I wouldn't put you through this if it wasn't important, you know that. I know that you're terrified of needles.” He paused. “I suppose you won't believe me if I tell you that it won't hurt?”

“Every doctor says that,” she retorted with a snort. “Pull the other one. It's got bells on.”

“What if I asked you to trust me?”

Donna was silent for a long moment. “It's going to hurt,” she stated flatly. “It always does.”

“Not this time,” the Doctor assured her, shaking his head. His brown eyes were round and earnest. “It really won't. Thirty-first century technology. No pain.”

“But yesterday...”

“Yesterday was an emergency situation,” the Doctor explained. “You were going into shock and losing consciousness. I needed to get several drugs into your system at once and a good old fashioned hypodermic was the fastest way. Otherwise, I'd have had to use individual pressure hypos and while those don't hurt, they can only carry one drug at a time. I wasn't willing to waste time loading and injecting multiple syringes while you were fading on me. This isn't like that. Your blood pressure is still too low and you need plasma and fluids to stabilize your system. The technology I'm using is one thousand years in your future, from a time where medical science has largely advanced beyond the use of intravenous needles. You won't feel a thing. Do you understand?”

She nodded once, then looked away.

“Donna, trust me. Please. Have I ever lied to you?”

“No,” she admitted.

“Then why would I do so now?”

Donna found she couldn't think of a reason. “You wouldn't.”

She looked back at him and he slowly extended a hand and wiggled his fingers. “Then give me your arm.” Donna pressed her lips together and hesitated before timidly sliding her left arm over towards his outstretched hand. He grasped her arm. “There's a good girl.”

“Oi! Don't get all patronizing on me!” she huffed, but the high pitch in her voice revealed just how scared she felt.

“Sorry,” the Doctor apologized as he started feeling along the underside of her forearm for a vein. “This won't take ten seconds.”

Donna looked away again. “Just tell me when it's over.”

“I'll have to,” the Doctor replied. “Because you won't know. Ah! There's the spot.” Donna squeezed her eyes shut, waiting for the sting of the needle, but all she felt was firm pressure in the middle of her arm. The pressure lessened after a moment and the Doctor said, “All done. You can look now.” Donna opened one eye and peered at her arm to where a white plastic disk about the size of a silver dollar was stuck fast. Two clear plastic tubes emerged from the disk and led up to the IV bags on the stand.

“How did you do that?” she demanded. “It didn't hurt at all! Why is there no needle?”

The Doctor got up from the bed and fiddled with the mechanical drip lines underneath the bags before answering. “It's...complicated” he replied. He knew that if he told Donna that the disk contained millions of microscopic needles that allowed the IV infusions to permeate her skin, she'd freak out. She opened her mouth to complain and he hastily added, “You really ought to eat your soup. It's probably getting cold.”

Donna looked down at the soup on her tray and realized that she hadn't even tried it yet. She picked up her spoon and started eating, surprised at how hungry she was. The Doctor busied himself tidying up his bedroom and getting rid of their soiled clothing from the day before while she finished eating.

He took her tray when she'd finished her soup and Donna let out a contented sigh. “Feeling better?”

“Yeah. Thanks, Doctor.”

He shot her a half-smile. “I'll be back in a little bit,” he told her before padding towards the door.

Donna settled back into the pillows and watched the shadows from the flames in the fireplace dance across the copper walls of the Doctor's bedroom. The crackling and popping of the ever-burning logs made her recall the chilly nights at her aunt's cottage in the Cotswolds when her whole family would sit by the parlor fire. Gramps would tell stories of the war while Gran knitted and called him an old liar. _I really ought to call him_ , she thought. _Tell him I'm ok._ She glanced up at the IV pole and her fingers tightened reflexively on the blankets. _I'm ok. I'll be ok._ Donna shut her eyes and let out a long breath. _I hope I'll be ok. I don't know what to do. I thought I loved Lance, but I never felt this way about him, the way I do for the Doctor. How am I supposed to tell him that I love him?_

Her thoughts were interrupted when the mattress on the other side of the enormous bed dipped. Donna opened her eyes and saw the Doctor sitting on the bed and watching her. “I thought you were asleep,” he said.

“No, just thinking,” she replied.

“About what?”

“About...it's nothing.” She looked away.

The Doctor watched her and frowned. Something was obviously troubling his companion and his natural nosiness and curiosity compelled him to press on. “You know you can tell me anything, Donna.”

_Not this. Not yet._ “I know, Doctor. I d...can't really talk about it just now.”

He grimaced in frustration but he knew better than to push her. She'd tell him when she was ready, he knew. “Ok.” A thought struck him and he bounced up from the bed. “Would you like for me to read you a story?”

“Yeah, sure. I like hearing you read.”

“Great!” He scurried over to a side table and rummaged through a stack of dusty old tomes before selecting one. Donna saw that it was almost two inches thick with a dark blue cloth cover that was somewhat faded. She could just make out the gold embossed image of a plump bear with his nose stuck in a honey pot on the cover. The Doctor retrieved his glasses from his dressing gown, plumped his pillows up, and settled onto the bed. He slid his glasses on, crossed his ankles, opened the book, and began to read, “'Once upon a time, a very long time ago now, about last Friday, Winnie-the-Pooh lived in a forest all by himself under the name of Sanders...'”

Donna smiled broadly to herself as the Doctor related the familiar tale of how the silly old bear and Christopher Robin tried to fool a bunch of bees by dressing up like a rain cloud. She stole a sideways glance at him as he read and thoughts began racing through her mind. _He'd be a great dad. His kids would adore him because he's such a big kid himself. He's been a dad before. He told me as much when Jenny was around. Oh god...what if he wants to have kids with me? You're being stupid, Donna. Love is not the same as wanting to make babies and change nappies and...I really should stop now._

The Doctor's voice and her own exhaustion worked like a gentle sedative and she was asleep within minutes. He carefully closed the book and slid off the bed when he sensed she was unconscious. The Doctor checked the drips and tugged the covers over his sleeping companion. He hesitated for the briefest second before leaning down and brushing his lips over hers. Donna made a contented sound in her sleep and her mouth curved up in a tiny smile.

He set the book back down on the side table and, with a final glance at Donna, left the room to let her sleep.

***********************************************************************************************************************************************************************

Four days later, Donna rolled her eyes as the Doctor boasted for the tenth time that morning about his impressive yo-yo skills. It was 1970 and they were in Edinburgh. The Doctor had seen some children playing with yo-yos and had began searching his pockets. He was visibly upset when his search failed to turn up his own yo-yo and he'd declared they needed a toy shop. The children eagerly pointed him in the right direction. He'd inquired after Donna's use of a yo-yo and was appalled when she confessed that she didn't know how to use one.

“There was a time when most of my companions could handle a yo-yo well,” he babbled as he dragged her down the high street, eyes searching for the toy shop. They'd done some other shopping and her paper bags flapped and bounced as she ran to keep up with him. “I taught them all, of course. My fourth incarnation had quite the knack for it. Only one better than me was Romana.” He frowned. “She was a Time Lady, of course. She _would_ be better than me. She used to run gravitational experiments with hers. Had no finesse, that one. Anyway, it's time you learned how to handle a yo-yo. Ah ha! There it is!”

The toy shop was tiny, but very well stocked. The Doctor greeted the astonished old proprietor with a cheery hello and instantly began peppering him with questions about his yo-yo selection. Donna let go of his hand and scurried down the closest aisle where she could lean against a display of board games and get some respite. _He's like Tigger_ , she thought.

That thought gave her an idea and she explored the tiny shop, keeping one eye on her enthusiastic Time Lord. She quickly found what she was looking for and slipped over to the register, where a shop assistant rang up her purchase and she stuffed it stealthily into one of her shopping bags. She was just in time because the Doctor turned around, searching for her. His face lit up when he saw her and he waved her over. He held two yo-yos. One was bright blue and the other was green. “Donna! I've found two beauties for us to buy. You've still got some money, right?”

“I don't know what you'd do without me,” she groused as she reached for the wallet that she'd just shoved back into her purse.

“I'd be lost and miserable without my human companion to keep me out of trouble,” he replied, grinning.

“Oi! You manage to get us into trouble even when I am around!”

“Then I'd be lost and miserable without my human companion to run away from trouble and save the universe with me.” He reached down and squeezed her hand, his eyes full of warmth and something else.

Donna stuttered, “B...beauties, you say?”

“Well...the yo-yos are beautiful, yeah. But...” he trailed off, his expression turning serious. “Not as beautiful as something else in this shop.”

Unnerved, Donna glanced behind her at a china doll wearing wedding dress. “Yeah, she is a beautiful doll, isn't she?”

Confused, the Doctor glanced at the bride doll and then a sparkle flitted through his brown eyes. “Oh, she's alright, I suppose. Though...” His gaze shifted back to her. “I've seen much lovelier brides,” he commented. “I can think of one in particular who appeared in my TARDIS at Christmas and helped me defeat the Racnoss.”

Donna smiled at the memory, even though it was a little painful. “Oh, go on.” She turned to the shopkeeper and paid for the yo-yos. They headed back up the street, the Doctor bouncing his blue yo-yo and whistling a jaunty tune in between calling out the name of his tricks. Donna gasped when he suddenly twisted the string up into his fingers to form a triangle as the yo-yo spun and rocked in the center. “What's that one?” Donna asked, impressed despite his earlier bragging.

“Rock the Cradle,” he told her. “It's my favorite trick.”

They reached the TARDIS and the Doctor was eager to get started on her yo-yo lessons, but Donna just laughed and asked for ten minutes to put her shopping away. The Doctor pouted a little, but agreed to wait. She rushed down the corridor and dropped her bags onto her bed, but not before withdrawing her purchase from the toy shop. Donna rummaged around in her dresser, found a small card and scribbled a message on it. She stuck her head out of her bedroom door, then glanced up and down the corridor and listened carefully. There was no sign of the Doctor. She tore down the hall at breakneck speed and burst into his empty bedroom, where she lay the toy down on the center of his bed. Smiling in satisfaction, Donna sauntered back to the control room where the Doctor was just setting coordinates for their next destination.

“There you are. Are you ready?” he asked, looking up as the time rotor began to churn.

Donna joined him at the console. “You bet. Let's rock that cradle.”

The Doctor chuckled. “Oh, it will probably be quite a while before we can rock the cradle.” He paused, then cleared his throat. “We'll just start with the basics, ok?”

***********************************************************************************************************************************************************************

Later that evening, the Doctor wandered into his bedroom to take a shower and change his clothes. Edinburgh had been rather damp and his hair had suffered for it. He passed by his...no, he corrected himself...their bed, for Donna had chastely slept there for almost a solid week now and he'd started thinking of it as theirs, even if he hadn't joined her very much. Something new caught his eye and he stopped to stare. A familiar yellow bear sat propped up against his pillow. The Doctor crossed to the bed and noticed a card between its paws. He picked it up and read the message, written in Donna's hand. “You said Time Lords don't have teddy bears, but I still think you need something to cuddle and I may not always be around. So here's your very own Pooh. He's not a teddy bear and I doubt even the Time Lords were too high and mighty for the humble bear from the Hundred Acre Wood. Love, Donna.”

The Doctor dropped the card and carefully picked up the smiling bear. He looked critically at the plush toy, then gave it a huge squishy hug. After a moment, he shuffled over to the side table where his enormous and worn copy of the collected works of A.A. Milne sat. Tucking the bear into his pocket, the Doctor flipped through the book until he came to a certain page. “'I used to believe in forever, but forever's too good to be true,'” he read quietly.

From the doorway came Donna's quiet voice as she quoted, “'Some people care too much. I think it's called love.'”

The Doctor's head snapped up and he looked over her. She gave him a small smile that looked a little sad. They stared at each other for what seemed to be hours until the Doctor closed the book and held out his arms to her. Donna stepped across the plush carpet and wrapped herself up in the Time Lord's arms. He held her close, rocking her slightly. “'I just wanted to be sure of you,'” he whispered, quoting Piglet in her ear.

Donna pulled back from their embrace to look up at him. “You want to know how sure I am?” she asked, a smile tugging at the corner of her mouth. The Doctor didn't answer. He only watched her, so she took a deep breath and said, “Right, then this is how sure I am.” She reached up and pulled his head down to hers to kiss him deeply. The Doctor's eyes went wide in complete surprise for a moment, but then slid shut as he surrendered to the moment.

After awhile, Donna broke off the kiss. She peeked up at the Doctor, trying to control her embarrassment. He was smiling at her. It was that intense, seductive smile that she'd caught him giving her from time to time. The last time was when he'd seen her in her knickers. It always seemed to unnerve her a little bit, but not anymore. “What do we do now?” she asked. “I mean, things are happening and I don't know...”

The Doctor brushed a few stray strands of her ginger hair off her face before he placed a single finger over her mouth, shushing her. “'Out there things can happen, and frequently do, to people as brainy and footsy as you. And if things start to happen, don't worry, don't stew. Just go right along and you'll start happening, too.'”

“That's not Milne.”

“Nope. A very wise doctor once said that.”

Donna put her hands on her hips and cocked her head to the side. “I suppose you're talking about yourself?”

He shook his head. “Not me. Seuss.”

Donna chuckled before she reached down and took his hand, squeezing it. “I...I saw something last week in that crystal ball in the attic, Doctor.”

“The Orb of Veracity,” the Doctor replied, sighing. “I really should padlock that thing away and drop it into a supernova.”

“But what it showed me about you, how you feel about me. Is it true?”

The Doctor looked deep into her eyes, shifted closer, and squeezed her hand back. “The Orb of Veracity cannot lie, Donna. It shows you what others think about you. What you saw was all true.”

“Then what I said earlier, about love. 'I meant what I said and I said what I meant,'” she quoted.

“My Donna loves me one hundred percent,” he finished, pulling her into a tight embrace before leaning down to give her the first of many passionate kisses to come.

  
This is my old copy of the collected works of A.A. Milne. I based the Doctor's copy off of it, though I imagined his would be even more worn and faded than mine.


End file.
